


The One in Question

by felisblanco



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-18
Updated: 2005-02-18
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisblanco/pseuds/felisblanco
Summary: Byffy has moved on, Spike is kissing Xander, what is a broody vampire to do? Get drunk and brood some more.





	The One in Question

**Author's Note:**

> I probably should wait until tomorrow because being tired is not a good time to proof-read your own stuff. But, my friends, you know me. I have the patience of... well, Spike. And I don't know if I will have time to post this tomorrow. So [](http://tgray.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://tgray.livejournal.com/)**tgray** , this is your birthday fic. You asked for Spander with Angel and jealousy. It went kinda Spanger or Spandel or whatever you should call it. No, not a threesome, just... oh just read it, will ya. Hope you like.
> 
> Takes place during TGiQ. Which is pretty obvious from the lame title I guess. *rolls eyes*

They sat simultaneously down on the cluttered couch, staring at the closing door, the thick scent of Andrew’s generously doused cologne polluting the air. Then they glanced at each other and the puppy look mirrored on their faces made them realise just how stupid they seemed. With a matching scowl they wondered which one of them was ultimately the biggest fool.

‘Me,’ Angel brooded because that’s how he always felt and weren’t he and Buffy supposed to be soulmates?

‘Angel’ pouted Spike, because well… he’s Angel and this was one contest Spike really didn’t mind losing. He snorted at the thought and Angel glared at him, pissed off at his insolence but even more at the fact that after all these years he could still read his childe’s mind.

They both opened their mouths, bitter insults forming on their tongues when suddenly there was a rattle and a ‘click’ and frozen they watched the door slowly opening. They might have been chasing her all over Rome but suddenly neither felt prepared to meet her. When in walked not a tiny blonde slayer, but rather a tall dark haired Cyclops Angel visibly relaxed. Spike didn’t and the way his whole body tensed to the point that he seemed ready to jump up and run away made Angel frown in confusion.

Xander still hadn’t noticed them, too caught up in his own thoughts to realise he wasn’t alone. He closed the door behind him, took off his jacket, hung it up and turned around.

The look on his face took Angel aback. He’d expected annoyance or even anger but instead he saw confusion and shock and then the boy was shaking his head, tears in his eyes, staring at Spike. The blood had drained from his tanned face and raising his hand he stuttered out ‘You!’ and ‘How?’ and then finally ‘No!’

Spike just sat still, head bowed, the stink of fear emanating from him in waves. Angel stared at him. What the hell was going on? Xander took one step forward and Angel felt a sudden urge to stand up. And the urge only increased when Spike slowly stood up and walked over to the boy, blue eyes glittering.

“’M sorry, pet. I should have let you know.”

“Spike? Is it really you? I swear if this is some kind of sick joke or…. Damn, if you’re the First… Stay the hell away from me!” But his voice shook and Angel could see he was close to crying.

“It’s me. It’s really me.” For a long time they stared into each other eyes, Spike biting his lower lip in uncertainty, Xander fighting to believe. When he finally moved Angel jumped up, ready to shove Spike behind him for protection but instead of pulling up a stake the boy grabbed Spike by the neck and kissed him harder than Angel had done in decades. They melted into each other’s arms; lips, hands and thighs pressed together in desperation.

And then Angel finally got it. Backing away in shock, he felt a need to gasp for air, the tightness in his chest making him feel like he was suffocating. All those months of constant fighting and hateful bickering between them and now he realised why it had never become more.

He wanted to walk over and rip Spike away from that… human. He wanted to punch Xander’s only remaining eye - And when did that happen? Why was he never told those things? - far into his skull. He wanted to growl ‘Mine!’ and sling Spike over his shoulder like he was a damsel in distress.

But instead he walked past them and opened the door quietly, leaving them alone in their happy reunion.

His footsteps echoed on the cobblestones of old Rome. Not even during his rat-eating years had he felt so alone. Not that he’d done anything to try win Spike back. Not really. Every time he felt a longing for the past, for _their_ past, he’d suppressed it. He’d blamed it on the inconvenient timing; he’d blamed it on the importance of keeping his image. But in fact it had been Spike’s distant look and the fear that he was no longer wanted that had kept Angel at bay. And so their relationship had been limited to the love/hate rivalry. Only without the love.

The small Italian tavern looked like it had been there for at least 500 years. He ordered a bottle of red wine, and then changed the order to a bottle of whiskey. As he sat at the small table in the darkest corner, swallowing one bitter mouthful after another his mind tried unsuccessfully to block out the images of what they could be doing now, the boy and _his_ boy. Behind closed eyelids he saw pale limbs tangling with tanned, blond hair brushing against dark, blue eyes staring into brown. He wanted to punch his fist through the wall. But more than that he wanted to cry.

The bottle emptied fast and the bartender brought over another, a slightly worried look on his face. Angel threw him a ridiculously high amount of liras and this time he didn’t even bother with the glass. The alcohol didn’t even bring him warmth anymore but it did make him dizzy. The only drawback was that instead of making him forget it made him remember. And instead of drowning his sorrows it only made him more depressed. With a groan he rested his forehead on the table in front of him.

“Not passing out, are you?”

The quiet voice made him look up and he squinted at the blurred figure in front of him. It looked like Spike, but Spike was somewhere fucking Xander so that couldn’t be right. “Will?”

The not-Spike sighed and sat down on the chair on the other side of the table. “Why not?”

Angel frowned. William didn’t look like that though. “Where are… where are your glasses?”

The not-Spike-maybe-William frowned back. “I haven’t worn them in years, you know that. Are you all right? How much have you drunk anyway?”

“’M not drunk. I’m… ok, slightly drunk. Maybe. Just a little. Spike?”

Spike shook his head in aspiration. “Don’t you start on that as well. Took me long enough to convince Xander. Yes, for the last time, it’s me. Here, give me that.”

Angel pouted as Spike took the bottle away from his trembling hand. Not that there was much left in it he noted confused. Where did it all go? He watched as Spike took a swig from the bottle and for some reason Spike’s lips touching something his own lips had touched just moments before made him want to weep.

“So that went well.” Spike pulled up a brand new packet of cigarettes, removed the foil, popped out two and lit them both. Angel took the one offered to him, the warm smoke making him close his eyes in bliss as it filled his lunges. Why did he stop smoking again? Oh yeah, pollution bad, soul good. Damn.

“I could see that. Didn’t expect you to finish so soon though. The one-eyed-wonder have trouble performing?”

“Shut up, Angel. You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spike didn’t sound angry though. He sounded sad and tired and for some reason that only made it worse. Made Angel’s jealousy bitterer.

“I don’t? Because I’m talking about you and him. Fucking. That’s what you used to do in Sunnydale, right? Harris the homo and Spike the… “ He stopped, couldn’t think of any word that started with sp. But still Spike wasn’t angry. He just raised his head to look at him and Angel swallowed in shame.

“Not that it’s any of your business but yes, we did. I was going insane with nightmares, he was going insane with his own guilt and so instead of crying in separate rooms we cried together. And fucked. A few times. That’s what you do when you expect to be dead the next day.” He looked away from Angel’s guilt ridden eyes and stared at the almost empty bottle, his fingers unconsciously stroking up and down the smooth neck.

“So…” Angel swallowed again, his throat suddenly so very dry. A beer. He really needed a beer. “You’re… in love?”

Spike slowly shaking his head made his heart jump.

“No. It wasn’t like that. We were just lonely, I guess. And horny. Well, you know me, always horny.” Spike smiled a little and Angel managed a small chuckle but it sounded strange in his ears. “He was still in love with Anya. And is, to this day, even though she’s dead. And I… well, you know.”

Angel nodded. “Buffy. Baking cookies and stuff.”

Spike snorted. “Not exactly. The soul… it changed everything. It made me want to forget about the present. And remember the past. Should have been the other way around, right?” He looked up again, the pain in his eyes making Angel hitch his breath. “It made me feel… lost. Scared. So alone. Which is why I kept dreaming about the only time in my life... unlife… whatever… when I felt completely secure. Because there was always someone there to look after me.”

Angel reached for the bottle and emptied the last drops out of it before nodding again. “Your childhood. Your mother’s sweet kiss before you went to sleep.”

Spike sighed and shook his head. “Think you have me confused with someone else, pet. My childhood was nothing like that. I mean, mum… she was all that but my father…?” He clenched his jaw and looked away. “Lets just say the day he died I was the happiest lad in London. No, Angel, I was talking about the years I had with you.”

Angel’s head snapped up and he stared straight into blue eyes that were watching him in sadness. “But… no! I… I mean, Angelus was a right bastard. The things he… I did to you…” He swallowed. “Spike, you weren’t happy.”

Spike smiled. “Maybe I wasn’t but I felt… I belonged. And I knew you would always be there for me. Well, until you weren’t.” If he noticed Angel flinch he didn’t mention it. “So that’s where I went in my head. Imagining you lying beside me, holding me as I cried and screamed out my nightmares. And then one night I woke up to real arms around me and so it happened. That’s all.”

Angel stared at him until the cigarette burning his fingers made him jump and swear. His skin was slightly red but he knew it would heal in a few minutes. Which is why Spike taking his hand and sucking his burned fingertips into his cool mouth hit him straight in the groin. He gasped and they locked eyes and then Spike was leaning over and…

He knew he was drunk but he was pretty sure that was not the reason he felt like he was falling. The world went black as he closed his eyes and all he knew was Spike’s silky tongue licking his palate before twisting around his own tongue. He had forgotten how soft Spike could be but he still remembered his taste. Oh God.

There was a crash as their chairs and the small table fell to the ground. They were standing, locked in each other’s arms and Angel suddenly realised the difference between this and Spike’s earlier kiss with Xander. This time there was no sadness. And this time, even if they might cry, it wouldn’t be for someone else.

He didn’t know how or where but suddenly they were stumbling up stairs and into a small room. He vaguely recalled a taxi and giggling but that was it. Not that it mattered. Not when he had Spike in his arms, nibbling at his neck, undoing the fly on his pants. Not when small hands were roaming his body and something hard was nudging against his thigh.

He couldn’t remember Spike ever being in control like this. Their past had mostly been about what Angelus wanted and how William could provide it but he knew that didn’t mean he had always been in charge. Actually he suspected Spike of more than often having twisted Angelus around his finger, making him order him to do what he wanted to anyway. But this… this was different.

He took of the ugly jacket and his shirt when Spike told him to, he lay down on the bed just like Spike wanted, he kissed him when Spike growled for his mouth. But in the end it was Angel that entered Spike, Angel that was pushing Spike down into the mattress, Angel that leaned over to sink his fangs into Spike’s slender neck. Only this time he knew he was playing to Spike’s rules, that this was what he wanted, what he craved like a starved puppy craves love more than food.

That night both of them slept without dreams for the first time in years.

 

Fin.


End file.
